Under The Thorn Sun

Of wine and fine dining

Under The Thorn Sun

(Of wine and other fine dining)

Thorn Beckett walked with calm deliberate singular steps, one long step at a time, one foot in front of the other, with extended strides, through the briers trying entanglement, while he avoided injury in the thick of things, gingerly treading over a soft landscape made of black earth, which seemed at times be be loaded, full of mine field explosives. His state of mind slowed him more than his strong body, which was ready for anything the unknown could throw at him.

After several days of endless walking in the open wilderness he stumbled upon some luck.

When he reached the tall red woods it was already high noon or was it? A cloudless sky was his only indicator. A non existent wind, coupled with the larger than usual bold orange sun, positioned what seemed to be directly above him, made Beckett think what he would, what he wanted, not necessarily what was true in this uncomfortable environment.

His movements slowed, became sluggish, to a molasses crawl in the prevailing conditions. Speed and accuracy along with anything resembling clarity became a thing of the past. Humidity, with its aquatic effects, slowed his breathing and thinking capacities even further.

Thorn was happy to reach the high woods where he could collapse under the full branches of the friendly forest. There were no known predators in this region so he slept in peace on the green moss, covered in brown leaves, which were just starting to form their crunchy sound for Fall, which was still far off, several months from now in the distance.

Day broke open on the sound of ants marching past the sleeping man. Their interest was of a vegetation kind so they hurried off on their urgent business.

Noon came and went, or a close approximation to it, while Beckett slept, as if he knew the limitations of lumber. He snored, stayed perfectly still as the woods that surrounded him, becoming almost as solid as a log while he slumbered in peace and calm away from the sun, which hungered for his company.

It was not that the man was lazy. He had been sojourning for many days with limited rest under horrific conditions. His supplies were depleted, the canteen empty, blistered feet from holes in the soles in his boots, wore out his being, caused a worn down soul nearly defeated.

Afternoon came and went according to speculation. Beckett woke up refreshed. Big blue eyes stretch out calculating on the day well under way ready for adventure. Hunger and thirst filled him with their desires. He carried a small hand gun strictly for self defense. It would now be utilized to save him. He had to become a hunter or die. Perhaps he would get lucky and find some edible vegetation.

His real journey begins. The forest was much easier to traverse there in the wild woods. In no time at all he happened upon a brook. It was thin and winding, full of clear cold water meandering slowing, going south at its own pace. There was the natural concern that it could be contaminated with parasites. Thorn had no matches, lighter or flints to start a fire. When his jeep was pushed over a ridge by a drunk driver who was trying to negotiate a curve at high speed. He was not exactly contemplating a camping trip on his way to work.

As fate would have it, Thorn was lucky to have survived with no injuries, however, he could not climb back up to the road, being it was too steep and out of his reach. All things have their limitations in nature. He had to find another way back to civilization.

Thorn was a respected Sommelier at a local well renowned restaurant in the Napa Region in California. His knowledge and skills as a gifted wine steward were without equal. That fact was of little consequence here in the wilderness where a bottle of fine wine would be greatly appreciated at this time, as was clearly thirsty but of little use in his present condition for the purpose of survival.

By pure chance he happened to have a Swiss Cross utility pocket knife. He put it to use to cut some bark off a fallen dead tree and some sturdy vines hanging from trees in his vicinity. He fastened the bark to the soles of his boots with the vines so he could walk more safely through the treacherous terrain. He looked funny in his new found fashion, like a Dutch boy in wooden shoes learning to walk on ice for the first time. Never the less, it was functional and would have to do for his protection under the circumstances.

Life is something that happens to you while you are making plans or busy doing something else. A cougar pounced on him from behind. Other animals have to eat too. Beckett would make the perfect meal. Cougars love raw flesh.

The idea of no predators living in this forest turns out to be an erroneous fabrication of the truth, in light of the fact of the attack taking place on the unsuspecting man and has rendered that thought mute. Thorn pulled out his pocket knife which turned out to be of little use on a savage beast. He reached for a near by heavy branch to beat it down. It tuns out that Thorn had more spirit than the animal. It ran away in the light of day, no questions asked or answered. It could be that the man was well rested and in better physical condition but what ever the reason, Becket was glad to be alive. Life is worth the fight. He knew that fact deep down in his Sommelier familiar heart and was happy with himself.

We can never say enough about experience. This one was will never be forgotten.